Across policy discussions and education programmes, media literacy is often framed as a necessary response to the complexities and challenges of contemporary public life. Whether it’s concerns about misinformation, online harm, or declining trust in traditional journalism, the prevailing view is that better media literacy leads to better citizenship. On the surface, this seems both reasonable and practical. Yet, beneath this logic lie a set of assumptions about the role of the individual, the purpose of citizenship, and the nature of democratic participation that deserve closer scrutiny.
We are repeatedly told that individuals must be equipped with the knowledge and skills to recognise bias, navigate disinformation, and make informed decisions online. This model of media literacy places a heavy emphasis on personal responsibility, imagining the citizen as a rational decision-maker who can, with the right training, avoid manipulation and act in the public interest. But how realistic is this view when media systems are structured around attention economies, algorithmic curation, and the commercialisation of communication? What if the issue is not simply a lack of individual skill, but the unequal distribution of access, voice, and power?
Moreover, there is a tendency in these frameworks to focus on media consumption rather than media production. While the ability to critically analyse media messages is undoubtedly important, less attention is given to the ways in which people make and share media in their own communities. How often do we consider the informal, relational, and creative ways that people communicate outside institutional settings? Are we overlooking everyday acts of storytelling, organising, and collective memory-making as legitimate forms of media citizenship?
Media literacy policies and curricula frequently frame their objectives in terms of managing risk. The emphasis on safeguarding—particularly for young people—often prioritises protection over participation. This approach tends to frame the media user as a potential victim, in need of regulation and guidance. But what if we shifted this perspective? What would it look like to support media users as active participants, capable of shaping their own communicative environments rather than simply surviving them?
At the heart of many institutional models lies a prescriptive view of citizenship itself. Good citizens, we are told, consume reputable news, engage in civil discourse, and trust the democratic process. Yet these ideals can be exclusionary. They often reflect dominant cultural norms and fail to recognise the ways that marginalised communities engage in political life on their own terms. Who decides what responsible civic behaviour looks like? And what forms of expression are excluded or devalued in the process?
If we are to support a genuinely pluralistic and inclusive model of media citizenship, we need to look beyond these institutional frameworks. At Decentered Media, we are interested in approaches that are grounded in lived experience, shaped by the specificities of place, and responsive to the needs and aspirations of communities themselves.
This means recognising that media is not just something we consume or critique—it is something we make, share, and inhabit. In many communities, media practices emerge not in formal settings but through informal, creative, and collective processes. Local storytelling projects, community radio stations, self-published zines, WhatsApp groups, and spoken word performances all offer ways for people to articulate their identities, share their concerns, and build connections. These practices are often deeply embedded in the everyday rhythms of community life, offering insight, support, and solidarity in ways that institutional models often miss.
A key question, then, is how we support and sustain these forms of media participation. What kinds of infrastructure, relationships, and resources are needed to ensure that communities can develop and maintain their own media practices? How do we move from viewing media as an optional or supplementary activity to recognising it as a central component of social and civic wellbeing?
One possible way forward is to situate media within the broader concept of the foundational economy. Just as access to housing, education, transport, and healthcare is understood as essential to public life, we argue that access to meaningful, participatory media should be seen as a foundational service. This requires a significant shift in thinking. Rather than framing media literacy as a set of transferable skills taught through formal education, we must instead think about media infrastructure as something that enables participation, sustains relationships, and supports collective imagination.
What would it take to build and maintain such infrastructure? How do we ensure that place-based and non-extractive forms of media are adequately funded, protected, and recognised? And how can we design systems that enable communities to define their own priorities, rather than adapting to the constraints of external funders or institutional agendas?
These are not easy questions, and they require ongoing dialogue and experimentation. But if we are serious about building a democratic culture that is inclusive, responsive, and sustainable, then we must broaden our understanding of media literacy and citizenship. We must move away from individualised, risk-focused models and towards approaches that are relational, collaborative, and grounded in place. Media is not a peripheral concern or a technical add-on—it is central to how we understand ourselves, how we relate to one another, and how we build the futures we want to live in.
At Decentered Media, we believe that this work begins not with abstract principles or national frameworks, but with listening—to the practices already taking place in communities, to the knowledge that resides in everyday experience, and to the questions that people are already asking about how they are represented, how they are connected, and how they are heard.